


Drabble Free-for-All

by kriegersan



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Gen, M/M, One-Shots, Other, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1795885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriegersan/pseuds/kriegersan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of various AUs and drabbles based on prompts given on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> Sterling/Lana + Fantasy AU

"So, excuse me because I must be totally insane or something, but were you just a _dragon_? Like two seconds ago, there was a dragon there in your exact place with like, big black dragon versions of your big, uh, black lady hands.” He squirmed out of his binds as the once-dragon freed him with her massive broadsword. She whirled around, slicing the head off one of his oncoming captors before turning her blood smeared, fiery visage onto his reclined form.

"Yes, I was just a dragon, and right now you’re just a pain in my ass, so would you get your damsel-y ass off that bed so we can, y’know, not die at the hands of what look like garden gnomes?"   
  
"I’m pretty sure you’re just really really tall. And like, don’t you have to kiss me out of my slumber first or whatever?"   
  
She rolled her eyes and ducked down, pressing a tight, chaste kiss to his mouth. “There you go, princess, now can you get your fucking ass moving here?” A shield knocked her in the shoulder eliciting an annoyed huff, to which she kicked sharply backwards, knocking her assailant down the stairs behind.   
  
Her ‘princess’ in the meantime, had scooched his ass off the bed, standing to his full height with his hands in his pockets. “So… are you gonna go like full dragon and we’re gonna fly out of here all badass destroying ceilings and dragon-y or whatever?”   
  
"Actually I was thinking we’d take the stairs."   
  
"I mean… I guess that works too. What’s your name, oh savior of mine?"   
  
"Lana," she said, pulling back her helmet to wipe the sweat off her brow.   
  
He did a double-take at the sight of her face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re like… super hot for a dragon? Sterling Archer.”   
  
"Y’know, I have heard that before, but that might be on account of the fire breathing." She extended her gauntlet to him, hand open. "Now come on."   
  
"Cool," he said, gleefully, trying to keep up as she booked it down the stairs, slaughtering hoards of gnomes in their wake. 


	2. School Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From albertstark: Lana/Archer highschool au? :)

Archer passed the joint back to Pam, feeling a little hazy and vaguely aware that a bell was ringing somewhere off in the distance. Oh yeah, he totally had chemistry class, but… eh. Pam coughed next to him in a cloud of smoke, passing it to Ray, next.  
  
"What are you doing?" A hand clamped around his bicep, dragging him away from his group of friends. Of course, Lana, lab partner, nerd and giant bitch had to harsh his buzz. "We have a lab that’s worth half our grade for this term, and here you are getting baked behind the gym. Why,  _why_ , did Mr. Riley punish me by putting us together?”  
  
"I dunno, maybe he thought I’d make you less of a psychotic, perfectionist cunt," Archer said, flatly, still marching along behind her reluctantly. She stalled suddenly, turning on him with angry tears in her eyes.  
  
"I know this is just some big joke to you, but I’d rather chop off each of my toes, individually, over a period of five days, pickle them and serve them au gratin to my friends for lunch than let some entitled rich white mommy’s boy cost me my grades and by extension my fucking scholarship and the rest of my entire life beyond this shithole shit town." 

"Sorry but,  _you_  have friends?”   
  
She slapped him straight across the mouth, and he caught her by the wrist on the recoil, pulling her arm down between them. Lana made a choking noise, abruptly turning, storming her way back to the school by herself.  
  
"Lana, come on, I didn’t mean it," he insisted, picking up speed to tail her. He reached out for her hand, and she stopped, letting him hold on, but still didn’t face him. "I’m your friend."  
  
"What kind of friend would say that to someone else," she mumbled, her eyes turned down.  
  
"The kind of friend that totally likes you but is just too big of a bitch to admit it because he’s afraid that you’re way too smart and caring and hot for him and you’ll shoot him down and bruise his already fragile ego so he just is generally a dick to you to get your attention? Just a shot in the dark here."  
  
She spun around, watery eyes wide. “You…  _what_?”  
  
"Shit," he said, face immediately going bright red. 


	3. Suburbia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From alberstark: Oh man, I wanna spam you with drabble prompts now. Can I get a Lana/Archer suburban parents au drabble? Because my heart needs it.

"So this whole pretending to be a boring married couple to convince people that we’re not killers on the run to hide thing," started Lana, spooning mush into Abijean’s frothy, humming mouth, back turned to Archer who was busily stirring something in a pot. She never imagined he’d be the better cook than her, but he seemed to have a knack for it, and it was nice to not have to worry about dinner on top of the million other things she had to worry about (including being on the run from the FBI… woops).   
  
He opened cupboards behind her. Set down spoons, mixed things. “What about it?”  
  
"Are we really pretending anymore?"  
  
"Um… were we ever, Lana?"  
  
"I mean… I kinda figured because of the not getting completely shitfaced around me (or other people I guess), or the not deliberately trying to piss me off around other people (and also just in general I guess too) or the whole doting daddy act you put on, or wait, you act like that when it’s just… y’know, I’ll just shut my big dumb mouth before I make a total ass of myself." She stared at Abijean’s big blue eyes, the stubborn look of her kid as she wrestled with a spoon, banging it noisily against her baby chair. She was definitely an Archer.   
  
"Lana," he said, his hands settling on her shoulders. He leaned down, kissed the side of her temple, "You already did make an ass of yourself."  
  
"Fuck," she said, with a laugh, Abijean blowing pea green bubbles all over her face and bib. Archer swiped her mouth with his thumb, wiping it off on her bib.   
  
"Baby, are you being a little shit for mommy? Yes you are, aren’t you?" He poked the 6 month old in her chubby little stomach, eliciting a squeal of delight and more spoon banging. "If you wanna watch dinner, I can chuck her in the bath tub and mostly promise that she probably won’t drown."  
  
"Okay," she said, dumbly, feeling a little embarrassed. She stood up, bee-lining to the sink to wash her hands, while Archer scooped AJ out of her high-chair, making faces at her while she shrieked and kicked her tiny little feet enthusiastically. He hefted her onto his shoulder, making sure she could face out because she always started crying when she couldn’t see what was going on.  
  
He stepped up behind her while she furiously pumped soap into her hands, setting his chin on her shoulder. AJ reached her fat little hands out, taking a chunk of Lana’s hair into her mouth. “Hey you.” Archer took AJ’s little hand, and gently unwrapped her fingers their stronghold.  
  
"Hey…" she said, focused on the running water from the tap.   
  
"I love you, real fake wife."  
  
"…Dickhead."  
  
"The chicken is burning, by the way. Jesus, do your fair share of domestic duties, Lana," he chuckled, turning away to take a restless, sticky AJ into the tub. Lana hastily dried her hands, taking over dinner and (mostly) salvaging the chicken.   
  
Maybe he’d finally grown up, then. 

Or maybe not, judging by the excited, hysterical yelling and tandem tiny child squeals from the bathroom and ensuing sound of water splashing all over the floor, soap bubbles floating out through their hallway.

Still… yeah, she totally loved her real fake husband (dickhead) too.


	4. Pirates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From cyborglovesong: Okay uhh... Lana + Ray in a pirate AU?

"We are commandeering the hell out of this big ole boat, y’all!" he yelled, rifle firmly situated on the commodore’s coiffed white wig. Sweat beaded on his face, but Ray kept the gun steady while Lana paced her way up and down the ranks, the rest of her men ransacking them for all they had.  
  
Lana stopped in front of one of the soldiers, a cute one with dark hair, reaching into his pockets herself to pick out his valuables. She smirked at his blatant fear under her wide-brimmed hat, her dirty face still gorgeous in the light of the setting sun. She was notorious in these areas, known for flat-out convincing men with her beauty to just hand over their ships, almost never having to kill or ransack to get what she wanted (no she did that just for shits and giggles). Ray, her right-hand man, always got his fair share of the booty, as it were.  
  
"You can’t do this! This is  _my_ ship! I’ll have you all hung for treason!” yelled the admiral, trying to twist out of the firm hold Krieger had on him.   
  
"I think the word you’re looking for is hanged," retorted Lana.  
  
"Actually in my case, it is literally hung," said Ray, grinning, grabbing his junk to the disgust of the commodore and admiral.  
  
"You’re all sick! All of you are disgusting lowlife scum of the earth! And a woman shouldn’t even be on a ship!"   
  
"Sexist pig. Bye," said Lana, gesturing to Krieger, who promptly blew the admiral’s brains all over his beloved ship. "What a douche. Ray, grab all the shiny things, let’s blow this dinghy down to Davey Jones."

"Are you sure?" asked Krieger, dropping the admiral’s body off the edge of the boat to the horrified cries of the rest of the crew. "Does Davey Jones even want this shit heap?"  
  
"I dunno, Krieger, why don’t you go down and ask him?" Ray wasn’t really paying attention anymore, distracted by a pretty, scared little deckhand, wondering to himself if he could convince him to become a pirate. Or at least a whore for pirates. Pirate whore.  
  
Krieger stared at him. “I would… but I can’t breathe water. I mean, I could _try_.”  
  
"Dumbass," muttered Lana, kicking over a barrel of gunpowder, preparing to blow the ship to smithereens.


	5. Whatever Farm Animals of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From cyborglovesong: And... because you knew I was gonna say it anyway, Archer/Ray + a WW2 AU.

"Hey, hey buddy, c’mon, wake up, you’ve got this." 

Ray’s eyes slowly opened, and he coughed up fluid, rolling onto his side to let it leak out of his mouth, retching before he could stop himself. His chest was killing him. A hand clapped him on the back, holding onto his other shoulder, and he groaned as he laid back down, flat in the trench, fire and smoke roaring above them. 

A canteen was pushed into his hands, and he finally looked over, catching sight of a smirking, dark haired man, knees pulled up, rifle flat on his thighs beside him. “Sterling Archer, TEC 5. You were totally almost dead there, man. I saved you. You owe me a blowjob or something.”  
  
"Ugh, I feel like I got run over by a tank, y’all," he mumbled, taking a sip of blessed, amazing water out of the other man’s canteen. A few of their soldiers passed by above, a mortar striking not too far away from them. "Thanks for… doin’ whatever you did to save my ass. Ray Gillette, private first class."

"I had to french you, dude. No thanks necessary."  
  
"Ugh, that’s why my mouth tastes like shit…"  
  
"Nah, that’s probably just the blood and vomit from getting thrown like 10 feet by an explosion."  
  
Ray sat there for a minute, pulling out a cigarette with shaky hands. “So… I was actually dead?”  
  
"Yeah, for a few seconds," said Archer, offering him a matchbook. "I got your heart going again, though, and look, living, breathing, puking in all your glory."

He didn’t know how he felt, probably because he was still in shock, so Ray just wiped his nose with the back of his hand, lit his cigarette and sat there, shoulder pressed up against his sudden savior. They passed the smoke back and forth, covering the cherry with their hands so as not to be spotted, Archer’s arm finding its way over Ray’s back, shaking there in the trench.

Gunfire above them. The cigarette burnt down into nothingness. They had to move forward. They just had to.


	6. Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little kids au, Archer & Lana? =)

The first time Lana set foot into kindergarten, she quickly realized that she was different from everyone else there. Not just because of her skin, but the other little kids seemed so mean and violent. She quickly learned to keep to herself, spending the first few weeks completely alone.

The teacher never seemed to be paying attention, his old wrinkly face dour and grim as he focused on the computer (although his lips did twitch up ever so often in a smile from whatever he was watching).

She decided to take one of her favorite books (it was just sitting there on the shelf), retreating to the reading corner, taking one of the big pillows to sit far-removed from the rest of her peers. Lana barely noticed as a pair of little sneakers crept up to her.   
  
"That’s my book. I was reading it," said the little boy. She looked up, her eyes narrowing in confusion.  
  
"It was just on the shelf…"   
  
"Yeah, but it’s  _mine_. It has my name in it. Look!” He ripped the book from her hands, opening to the first page, where the word ‘Sterling’ was scribbled in crayon. Before she could respond, he slapped the book shut, clutching it to his chest.

So of course, logically, Lana punched him in the nose, and ripped it out of his hands.

He started wailing immediately, his precious book taken away, retaliating in the form of pulling her braided hair. Lana yelped, shoving her palm into his face, which he licked to make her stop.

The teacher had noticed the crying, swooping down to separate the two of them. “Now, now, little children! Come, you must have happy playtime together! None of this hitting nonsense I will have in my classroom. You must apologize! Please hug and make for niceness together!”

Sterling shut his mouth, immediately halting his tears. “Sorry, Mr. Jakov. And sorry Lana.” 

"For what?"

"For taking your book. And then pulling your hair."

"…Sorry," said Lana, reluctantly. "For punching you. It was mean." Mr. Jakov gestured for them to hug. Sterling opened his arms wide, grinning at her with childlike glee, and Lana, despite her reluctance, hugged him as well. He was actually a nice hugger. Seeing that his work was done, Mr. Jakov wandered back to his desk computer, eyes lighting up as he saw he had a new private message.

"So… do you wanna read together?" asked Sterling, kicking his foot at the floor. 

"Okay," said Lana, smiling a little despite herself. 

She’d made her first friend. 

"So, um, what’s wrong with your skin?"  

…She’d just unmade her first friend.

What a butthead. She’d totally never talk to him again (except for maybe tomorrow, when he sheepishly came over with another book, asking her to read again).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about Sterling/Lana in Paris in the 20s?
> 
> (Fair warning for boning in this fic.)

“ _Excusez-moi, mademoiselle?_ " 

"Yes? Shit, I mean  _oui_.  _Que voulez-vous?_ " 

"Oh, you speak English? Not that I couldn’t tell from your, if I’m gonna be honest, piss-poor accent."

"Yes, and here I am, speaking English, walking away from you," she said, angrily, wrapping her furs high up around her neck as she high-tailed it from the jazz club. Obviously he’d followed her out after bothering her to the point of leaving for the last hour or so, eager and overly aggressive just like every other adventurous ex-pat looking for a loose girl to take home. She was used to this song and dance.

He skipped his way ahead of her, walking backwards to look at her face. Sure, he was cute, his suit snug in the right places, nice shoes and hat. “American?” he asked, and she nodded hesitantly, slowing her walk to let him walk beside her. She wasn’t going to be able to get rid of him, anyhow. “New York?” Again, she nodded. “Hey, we have something in common.” 

"Great," she said, keeping her eyes steadily ahead of her, men on the street drunk and laughing, music pouring out the doors in the city. Paris was beautiful at night, lively, people celebrating everywhere. 

"So, what’s your name? If you don’t tell me I’m going to guess until I get it right." 

"What is wrong with you? I’m not going to sleep with you, so you can stop trying."

"Uh, hey, who said anything about sleeping together? You look like an interesting gal, and here I am, an interesting guy, and I was thinking we could have us an interesting conversation over some interesting drinks, if that’s okay with you?" 

She stopped walking in the middle of the street, other passers-by rippling around them, Lana turning to face her suitor. Staring him in the face, okay, yeah, he was pretty handsome, just a little taller than her, eyes alight with mischief. “Sterling Archer.” He offered his hand, and she reluctantly shook it (usually men didn’t try to shake her hand), her grip firm, his palm warm and a little dry.

"Adelaide," she responded, and he smiled a little. "Okay… you know, what, fine. Let’s go for a drink."

* * *

It wasn’t until later, where he was fucking her into the dingy hotel mattress, her hands tied to the brass bed-frame with his tie, that he called her name while coming. She yanked a hand free from the binds, palm over his mouth, moaning, his free hand mercilessly working her clit. “L-Lana—” she choked, her eyes rolling back as she followed him into orgasm.

He rolled off her, reached for a cigarette, untied her hands. “Um… my name is actually Archer, but that was close, I guess.” He looked a little disappointed, despite the sex glow crawling up his chest, his fluffed up hair. 

"No shit, dumbass, Lana is  _my_  name.”

"…You say your own name when you come?"

"Adelaide was a fake name. Put two and two together."

"Oh." He passed her the cigarette. "So why’d you give me a fake name?"  
  
"Because I figured initially I’d lead you into a bar, get up to piss and then leave you there. But then you turned out to be actually pretty interesting, and here we are."

"Here we are," he echoed, reclining back on the bed. She laid her head on his chest, his arm wrapping around her back up over her hip. "So…"

"Wanna do it again?" she blurted, and Archer grinned, flipping her back over on the mattress, covering her body with his own.


	8. Merman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lana/archer mermaid au ? ;owo
> 
> (This fic is my favorite... might actually get continued eventually.)

Lana smiled tightly, thoroughly aware that her houseguests could hear the thrashing noises upstairs. God, they really couldn’t get out soon enough. Lately she’d had more and more people just ‘dropping by’, eager to get a glimpse of whatever secret she’d shut away in her beach house. Rumors had been swirling around their tiny coastal village, that Lana was hiding a fairy, or possibly a baby, or maybe a serial killer. No one knew for sure, but they all knew she’d become a bit of a shut-in over the last few months, people reporting noises and strange occurrences lately from the Kane residence.

She shut the door gently behind them, then practically bounded up the stairs, throwing open the bathroom door to find her finny “friend” had crawled his way out of her make-shift aquarium and was more or less splashing in a puddle on the floor. 

"Oh… hey," he said, wriggling around on the linoleum, "Little help?" God help her, she was hiding a merman in her bathtub, and an injured one at that. Maybe brain damaged, if she was going by how generally stupid and irresponsible he was.

"Why can’t you just be quiet when I have company? Is that seriously so much to ask, Archer?" She crouched down, sliding her hands under his slippery armpits (that were probably smoother than hers), hefting him awkwardly off the floor, his fin leaving a trail of slime as she more or less plopped him back into the bath tub. He winced as the injured part of his tail slipped over the rim of the tub, water sloshing over the edges, the end of his fin hanging still onto the floor. Yeah, he was way too big for this tub. 

She started to stand up, only to slip in the pool of water and stumble her way into the tub with him. He grunted as her weight landed on his chest, arms coming up to catch her so she didn’t hit her head, stuttering his tail away from her sharp kneecaps so that she couldn’t damage him further. She lifted her waterlogged head with a huff, hair matted in front of her eyes. “Goddamnit.” 

"Sorry, Lana. Didn’t mean for you to fall. Although it was pretty funny." His hands slid down to her lower back, as she planted her hands on either side of the wall to try to hold herself upright. "But I did mean to wiggle my way down the stairs, in hopes that I could shimmy my way to the pool before I died of boredom in here."

"Yeah, I get it Archer, but you’re gonna die of people  _vivisecting_  you for research purposes if anyone sees I’ve got a fucking injured  _mermaid_ —”  
  
"Mer _man_ , Lana.”

"—in my freakin’ bathtub! As far as the average human being is concerned, you guys don’t exist." She reached behind his head for the faucet, turning it on to fill the tub with a little bit more water. He didn’t have gills like a regular fish, but he did get all dried out and crusty if he wasn’t properly hydrated. 

He didn’t let go of her back, instead rolling up her shirt a little to feel the skin underneath. Lana was vaguely aware that this was the first time they’d really touched this much (other than her dragging his noodley ass to the pool every night after midnight for exercise), his hands drawing patterns in her skin. “You’re right,” he admitted, after a fact. “I promise to behave if—”  
  
"If."  
  
"You give me one of those weird human hole touch things. Y’know, the thing in the movies."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. “Hole… touch… things. You mean a kiss?”   
  
"Yeah, sure, whatever, Lana."  
  
Over the past month or so since she’d found him, he’d gradually been teaching her things about the mer-world, and she’d been showing him movies and TV shows to educate him about hers. Mermaids kissed with their tails. Who knew. “Okay.”  
  
He waited for a minute, before flapping his tail impatiently against the side of the tub. “Do the thing, Lana. Hole kiss. I wanna know what it does.”  
  
"What it does?" It didn’t  _do_  anything. Did mermaid kisses do something? “And… stop calling it a ‘hole kiss’. Ew.”  
  
She pushed her soggy hair out of her face, leaning forward to touch her lips to his. It was a little weird (okay a lot weird), but she opened her mouth ever so slightly, letting her tongue dip out to brush his lower lip. He made a curious little noise, his hands tightening around her hips, his forked tongue poking out to touch hers. Yeah okay that was really super weird.  
  
She deepened the kiss, letting his tongue (or tongues?) into her mouth, and he tasted like something she couldn’t even put into words, but it was nice and his tail was flicking happily below her, until she pulled her head back, lips wet with saliva.  
  
"Oh," was all he said, tail flopping happily. "Again?"   
  
"Maybe later, in the pool," she responded, flustered, peeling herself out of the tub.


	9. Wild Wild West

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From cyborglovesong: If you're still willing, let's bring Archer and Ray back for a wild west AU here yeah?

"Ray, we need to, whoa, oh hey there, bucko."

Ray flew out from under the sheets, his bed, uh, partner screwing off into the next room, screaming in fear as Archer slammed the door behind him, pistol in hand. He snatched the desk chair, jarring it under the handle. 

"A little warning? Jesus, man!" yelled Ray, pulling on his shirt. Archer grinned, swinging open the window. "Oh, we’re makin’ that kinda exit, hey? What the hell’d you do?"

"Hey, I didn’t do anything!" Ray eyed him skeptically, throwing his hat on his head, following Archer out the window onto the balcony. They ran quickly, light-footed, only the light of the moon to see, until they reached the end, jumping over the bannister. 

Ray glanced at Archer, caught his eye. “Okay, so maybe I banged the hell out of the bartender’s daughter.”  
  
"You shit."  
  
"And also his wife."  
  
"You  _shitty_  shit.”  
  
"Okay, I get it, you’re one to talk Mr. Banging an 18 Year Old Rent Boy. How’s that horse of yours?"  
  
"Well it’s pretty high, you see," said Ray, crouching low to untether his horse from where he’d left her for the past few hours. She whinnied with appreciation, him patting her gently on the muzzle to quiet her.

Archer’s horse kicked and snorted, less well-behaved. ”Stop it, asshole, augh, would you just once  _please_  not be an asshole, Woodhouse. I’ll turn you into dog food.”    
  
Sure enough, someone heard them, yelling and gunfire coming from the saloon. Archer pulled himself onto the saddle, Ray following suit, kicking the horses into a run. A slug burst past his ear, Ray yarding hard on the reigns, speeding out of town.

"Why you always gotta get us chased out of settlements, you dick?" Ray yelled over the hail of gunfire.

Archer turned, shooting back at the gang of men now quickly gaining on them. “Why do you always have to take forever to get dressed in your girly fucking European clothes whenever we have to make a daring exit, you piece of shit!” 

"Well… because they look good. Obviously."  
  
"Obviously!"

"Shit!" 

Ray ducked, hat flying forward on his head. “They shot my hat!”  
  
"And?" They darted down a less-beaten path. "This way, idiot." 


	10. Father's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you be adverse to writing a First Father's Day Archer prompt? I know you've already written so many great one shots so if not it's totally alright. Just thought I'd throw it out there.
> 
> (This fic also ended up being one of my favorites.)

"Hey dude, Happy Father’s Day!" said the barista, handing him his change.

It was innocuous enough, but something about the statement bugged Archer as he collected his coffee, walked out the cafe doors onto the street. On his way back to his house, he slowed to a stop at a small concrete park, standing against a guard rail.

Oh right. For the first time ever, he didn’t feel that weird sinking sensation of dread, having to see his friends and just other not important people go to dinner with their parents, the Snacklesnaps and overheard phone calls. Mother ignoring him all day, off on a mission, Woodhouse shot full of heroin in the bathroom. Crippling, horrible loneliness. He took a sip of his coffee. Nope, no sinking sensation. No insatiable need to drown himself in liquor. He kind of just was ready to go home (with Lana), if he was going to be completely honest.

He flicked open his cell phone, dialed Lana’s number. She picked up on the third ring. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

"Why do you always assume something is wrong?"

"Uh, sorry, nothing, what’s up? It’s been like twenty minutes since I saw you."

He’d been sleeping in her guest bedroom on-and-off for the last 5 months, taking turns waking up at odd hours of the night to make dumb faces at his dumb, crying baby that liked to fuck up his REM cycle. Listening to Lana bitch endlessly about her dried, cracked nipples, not fuck him and randomly start crying over stupid shit like him showing up on time, when he said he would.

"Hey, so…" he started, leaning forward on the rail. He bowed his head, swallowing, not sure what he wanted to say. "I’m… fuck."

"You’re fuck. Alright, I’m hanging up, I have a hungry baby who wants a boob. Yes, you do, baby. You little boob addict, you."

"Lana, I… thanks."  
  
” _Thanks_. Uh, you’re welcome?”  
  
"No, seriously. Thanks. For AJ."  
  
"She’s a person, Archer, not a Christmas present. A teeny, tiny person."  
  
He couldn’t help but smile, leave it to Lana to be entirely fucking cynical about everything that ever existed. “Do you even know what day it is, stupid?”  
  
"The day I finally drown in baby poop. No, Archer, I don’t know."  
  
"It’s Father’s Day, idiot."

"Oh my God!" Lana dropped the phone, noisily. "Sorry, sorry! Shit, I totally forgot. Sterling, happy Father’s Day."

He laughed. “Wow, that is the first time I’ve ever heard those words without totally feeling like dying.”

She paused, on the other side. “That’s really sad.”

"I know."

She was quiet.

"Hey, I know I said I wouldn’t be there until later tonight for my shift entertaining the brat, but all that shit that I had to do doesn’t seem at all important, so I’m gonna come over and play with AJ, if that’s okay?"

"Of course, Archer. See you in a bit."

He flipped his phone shut, walking back the way he came.


	11. First Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From albertstark: Damn, I was gonna ask you for a Father's Day prompt. But since that's done, can I get AJ's first birthday? If you're not completely sick of me asking for Lana/Archer crap. <3
> 
> (There is a great deal of fluff in this.)

"Lana, our kid is covered in cake."

"Oh come on, Archer, she’s enjoying herself. Look! At the enjoyment. Of the cake."

"To me that just looks like a gigantic mess I’m going to have to go to the trouble of making Woodhouse clean up."

"Oh, nonsense!" announced Malory, making her way between them with a fresh glass of champagne. The older woman was already past the happy drunk stage into mean and wobbly, having doled out all of her gifts and been overshadowed by Pam’s custom made playhouse. "She’s just having fun, don’t be such a sour grape, you ass!" 

"I never thought I’d see the day that Mother would willingly touch a filthy child."   
  
"She’s my granddaughter!" said Malory, grasping AJ’s tiny hand as the girl struggled to stand, face full of cake. She’d taken her first steps not too long ago. Archer had literally passed out he’d gotten so excited. Literally. "And also I am very, very thirsty and I might like a glass of water, maybe." Lana rolled her eyes, disappearing into the kitchen full of guests to get one.  
  
"Mother, you’re just drunk," said Archer, crouching down and reaching for AJ. "Hey you baby! Come here. Let me clean that nasty face of yours." He wiggled his fingers towards her, her face twisted in concentration as she let go of Malory to baby step forward.

She started to fall on the last step, so he tucked his hands under her armpits, swinging her up onto his shoulder. Malory disappeared into the kitchen after Lana. “Noo!” she squealed, pushing at his hands, kicking her legs. “No!” 

"My name isn’t no, kid."  
  
"Nooo!" Lana pushed a wet washcloth into his hand, and he mopped the cake mess off of her face. She squawked and cried, her face going red in frustration. 

"Look, all clean! Now go see Auntie Pam, I’m sure she’d love to have a dance party with you!"   
  
"Dan!"   
  
AJ squirmed her way out of his hold, landing on her feet and then her hands, scooting her little butt over to Pam, who swooped down to pick her up.   
  
"Yay dance party," muttered Archer, not at all sarcastically. Lana elbowed him sharply in the side, eyeing him over a glass of champagne. "I can’t believe our little crotch spawn is literally a year old."  
  
"… _Crotch spawn_?”

"The fruit of our loins, Lana!" 

"Yup… a whole year."

They stood there, watching Pam tickle their daughter’s belly, eliciting a high pitched squeal of delight.

Archer reached gently for her hand, pinkie twisting with hers. “So… I was thinking,” he started, and she looked over, “AJ’s a year old. She’d probably make a good older sister by this point… don’t you think? I mean she took two steps yesterday without falling on her ass and shrieking. Could totally kick bully ass for a younger brother or sister.”

Lana stared at him. “Are you seriously…?”

"What?" He smirked. "Just a totally random, off-the-top-of-my-head thought."

"But we’re not even like… together-together. You sleep on the couch. And I mean, yes, we have sex and hang out a lot but like—"

"Jeez, Lana, forget it. Just a thought."

He let go of her hand. She scoffed, bumping up her shoulder against his. They stood side by side, arms crossed. “That was not just a thought. You’ve been trying to excuse your way out of using condoms for the last two months, for fuck’s sake.”

"I was kidding, Lana. Jesus, let it go already. I just hate the way they feel."

"Do you… really want another baby?" she said, quietly.

"Um… if I said yes, would you  _not_  punch me for sabotaging your birth control for the last two months?”

She punched him, regardless. AJ squealed as Pam held her tiny hands, helping her dance. Archer held his swollen jaw, unable to stop laughing at Lana’s flustered, happy expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all the prompts I have for today, kids! I still take prompts over at highandholy.tumblr.com, and if I like your prompt, I'll write it. Got another Cyril prompt (that ended up long) coming up the pipes.


	12. Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From anon: And I have a prompt Abijean introducing her first real boyfriend to her parents
> 
> (I made the boyfriend a girlfriend.)

"No, AJ."

"But—"

"No. You’re not allowed to date until you  _die_.”

She stared at him, big clear eyes showing obvious signs of frustration, hating that she couldn’t get through to him. Archer looked up over his glasses, face mostly hidden behind his book, giving her a testing glare. “But if I could just—”

"You’re sixteen. Sixteen is not nearly old enough to have people, um, up in your lady business."

"I never said I was going to jump right into like, scissoring or whatever! You  _literally_ , not figuratively, cannot try to ride the high horse on this one! Mom told me what you used to do!” she shrieked, lungs as impressive as her mother’s. “Besides, Mom said that I could! She met Charlie, really liked her and everything! She approves!”

"Kid, I am living proof of your mother’s impossibly poor judgment." 

"Shitass," came Lana, from the kitchen. She popped her head out the door frame, flour dusting her face. Lana had decided, after all these years, she wanted to learn how to bake. It was… not going well. "Besides, asshole, I did say that AJ could go on a date. With her  _girlfriend_. It’s not like she’s slutting it up, like  _someone_  we both know. Charlie will be here in like… 10 minutes anyway, so you don’t really have a say in the matter.”

"Good parenting, Lana. Why don’t you just, I don’t know, pack her lunch with AIDs syringes and MDMA while you’re at it."

"Don’t you trust me? I’m trustworthy, right! I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me! Other than the 3AM city hall parkour arrest, I guess," whined AJ, flopping down next to him on the couch. She wiggled her way under his arm, head against his chest, where he made a point not to look at her, instead turning towards his book. " _Archer,_ pleeeease! Dad!”

"There she is, busting out the D-word." He took his glasses off, rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Ugh… fine. But I want to have a word with this ‘Charlie’ before you run off to like, clam jam it up or whatever."

"Clam jam. Haaaa." Lana disappeared back into the kitchen.

"And also…" AJ started, planting her hands on her lap delicately, "I really like this girl, okay? We’ve been talking for months now. So please,  _please_  don’t, y’know. Be yourself.”

"No guarantees," he said, making a mental note of where all the guns were stored in the house.

Charlie showed up in five minutes, all nervous, 5’2 energy and smiles. AJ towered over her, grinned as she leaned down to hug her, then shoved her towards her father. “Archer, this is Charlie Yen. She’s my  _girlfriend._ ”

"Hi, kiddo," said Lana, drying her hands off. She’d abandoned the would-be muffins in the trash, the kitchen a complete disaster. "Sorry about the mess."

"It’s no worries, um, Miss—"

"Just call me Lana."

"Okay then, Lana! And um, hi Mr. Archer."

"You are so tiny! It’s just Archer, by the way, everyone calls me that and you are also included in that everyone. I guess I always forget how tall you are Abi, until like, literal gnomes show up on my door stop. I could fit you in a suitcase."

"My parents did that once. It’s how they smuggled me here from China."

"No shit."

"No, I’m just fucking with you," said Charlie, with a crooked, toothy grin. "I don’t have parents."

"Immaculate conception lesbian gnome. Nice."

"I meant I’m a ward of the state. Despite that, I don’t sell drugs, and I don’t whore myself for cash. Just nice purses."

Archer smirked despite himself, flicking his eyes over to AJ, hanging onto Charlie’s hand for dear life as she gave him a pleading look. He groaned, waved them away. “Okay, okay fine. Go out on your date. No elicit lesbian activities, that I need to hear about at least. Consider yourself followed.”

“ _Archer!_ " pleaded AJ, yanking Charlie’s hand, the shorter girl dipping down with a yelp. "Ohmygod, sorry! Sorry!"

"Yeah, okay, Thor, be careful you don’t accidentally crush her with your bear hugs or whatever. Be back by, I dunno. Lana, what’s a reasonable parental time to ask a kid to return by?"

"Um, I really don’t care. Just call if you get kidnapped or you accidentally murder someone in the night. We can take care of the body."

"Okay. No murder, no lesbian sex, no getting kidnapped," said Archer, watching with a frown as AJ put her shoes on. "Try to have fun or whatever. Here’s two hundred bucks. Take her somewhere not completely shitty."

"Your parents are really cool. Two hundred bucks!" said Charlie, quietly, as AJ nudged her towards the door.

"Yeah, until they start having noisy post-political discussion hatesex in the kitchen while I have friends over."

"Uh—"

"I have a lot to explain to you," said AJ, taking her girlfriend by the hand as they walked down the front step. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, still accepting drabble prompts at highandholy.tumblr.com.
> 
> New chapter of 3AM in maybe less than a week.


	13. Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From anon: abijean has to write a paper for school on who her biggest hero is, and she writes about her father. archer (and possibly lana) reacts.
> 
> Warning for shameless, fluffy dad fic.

The stack of paper on their kitchen table grew ever taller, and finally Archer buckled down to sort it out, bored out of his mind while Lana had fucked off on a mission in Canada, AJ at lacrosse practice for the next twenty minutes or so with the rest of the hormonal thirteen year olds who needed to hit stuff.

He’d read all the books he’d had on backlog already, anyhow. He sighed, tossing half of the stack in the garbage, carefully piling AJ’s artwork and schoolwork into a separate pile in order by date, Lana’s half-coherent scribbled (cute) notes into another by how amusing he found them. ( _"NEED. GRENADE LAUNCHER. NOW. FOR REASONS.")_

He paused as he came across an essay of his daughter’s, in her neat printing, her a’s and e’s matching his exactly. He noted the punched out title, “My Biggest Hero, by Abijean Archer-Kane”, and the corresponding red F stamped flatly in the top corner. He scowled, noting quickly that the entire reason for the poor grade was the first paragraph; “My biggest hero has to be my dad. He’s not like any other dad that I’ve met, he takes me on all these adventures around the globe, ever since I was a tiny one, and teaches me all this stuff that nobody else has even heard of! He’s so fucking smart—”

( _Abijean, you cannot use that language in your homework! We need to discuss this,_  again,  _with your parents_.  _And no, I will_ not  _accept another sarcastic booze stained napkin letter from your mother!_ )

That little shit had probably figured out how to forward calls from the school to her cell.  _His_  amazing little shit. He smiled, feeling a weird tightness in his chest. He’d never been anyone’s hero before, not to someone that  _mattered_ , anyway. 

"Oh Goddamnit. You weren’t supposed to see that," came AJ’s squeaky adolescent voice. "Look, I know I’m not supposed to swear in school! But—"

"Shut up. Get over here, Killer," he said, voice more than a little choked. AJ, sweaty, hair frizzy and half out of her ponytail, dropped her sport bag onto the ground, padding her way over to him. He scooped her onto his lap, hugging her tight into his chest, kissing her hard on the temple, as she squawked with embarrassment.

"Ugh,  _Archer!_ Gross!”

"You really suck, you know that!" Archer laughed, burying his face into her hair. "You picked me as your  _hero_? Did your mom drop you on your head as a kid or something? Actually knowing her, she totally did and went to elaborate lengths to hide it from me. That…  _Lana_.”

AJ twisted in his hold, stood up to her feet, in that stage where she was too ‘mature’ to let her dad hug or kiss her anymore. He missed having her little sometimes, running up to him to show her the bugs she’d found, or falling asleep on his shoulder at Pam’s terrible dinner parties. 

She eyed him suspiciously. “Of course you’re my hero, idiot. You’re like… the coolest dad. Even when you get  _super_ drunk with Grandmother and mom locks you out of the house and complains all night. Why do you think my friends are, like,  _always_  asking to come over and saying how jealous they are? You have a gun! That’s totally instant hero points!” She pointed her fingers out, thumb up. “ _Pew, pew, pew_!”

He grabbed her clasped hands with his own, pulling her back into a hug. She squirmed, but eventually slumped over, boneless, resigned. “Why are you so weird!?” she groaned, head lolling forward onto his shoulder. She poked her tongue out at his cheek, expect him to let her go in disgust, but instead he blew a raspberry into her neck, eliciting a squeal. “ _Archer!_ Augh! Daaaad! _”_

“But seriously, dummy, you should’ve showed me this, I could’ve gone in and y’know,  _threatened_  your teacher with bodily harm if she didn’t bump your grade up. That’s what the gun is actually  _for_.”

“She actually forgot about it after I introduced her to Uncle Cyril, _totally_  by chance. I  _obviously_ didn’t bribe Seamus to help me with my grade or anything, nothing like that,” said AJ,  _totally_ innocently. She reached over the table, pushing Archer’s neatly sorted stacks into disarray, much to his chagrin, before picking out one of the newer essays. “See! Perfect A. Ms. Willow is way easier on the marking when she’s getting boned.”

“Kid, fine line here.”

“Okay,  _okay,_ when she’s getting, uh, some _lovin’_.”

“Better. Plus, Cyril,  _ew_.” Even though they’d patched things up over the years, Cyril was… well, Cyril.

“Right?” said AJ, her nose (so like her mother’s) wrinkling cutely in disgust. She flapped her arms. “Can I  _goo_ oo?”

“Yeah, whatever, go clean up and I’ll start dinner.” God, he missed that old fruit Woodhouse sometimes (Lana had forced him into retirement when he turned 115, though he still came to visit pretty frequently). He liked cooking, but cleaning up was a  _bitch_. “And hey,  _actually wash your Goddamn hair_ , you dirty gremlin child.”

She sighed dramatically, stomping off to the bathroom, as Archer picked up his cell and immediately called Lana. She picked up after a few rings with a snarl. “Lana!” he said, excitedly.

“This couldn’t wait? You know I’m totally in the middle of something, that something being  _literal murder_. Also hi, how’s Abi, how are you? Did the house burn down? It totally burnt down, didn’t it. You’re drunk and on fire right now, aren’t you.”

“Lana, she wrote  _an essay_!”

“As school age children often do.”

“An essay about  _me!_  Being her  _hero_ , Lana!”

She paused; there was the sound of a faucet turning on in the background. Cleaning up, maybe?

“Well… yeah. Of course you’re her hero, stupid. Surprising  _everyone_ , you actually turned out to be a half-decent father. Somehow. I suspect virgin sacrifices.”

Archer didn’t want to admit it, but he totally felt himself tear up. He could hear the shower turn on in the other room, and it made him feel better that the noise hid his only slightly pathetic sniffling. “Lana, I… shit, it feels good to hear you say that.”

“Yeah, but between you and me, don’t let anyone know I told you that. They’d think I was getting soft on ya. I’ve got an image to keep up here. Douche.”

“You bitch,” he said, fondly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Get home soon, Lana. I want to give you some  _heroic_ orgasms.” 

“I will, once I get rid of this body. This big, fat, Canadian body. This guy sure loved his maple syrup.” She audibly huffed in exhaustion. “Ugh. Bye, Mr. Hero. Love you, shitass.”

“Me, too.”

It had taken her years to get to the point where she said it first, instead of ducking her head and smiling when he stammered it out. He hung up the phone soon after and got to making dinner for his idiot kid. If anyone had told him ten, fifteen years ago that he’d be Lana’s part-time housewife, he would’ve shot them in the face.

Still, he had people who cared about him, had people relying on him, to do boring shit like make dinner, not set things on fire and make sure Abijean didn’t flunk out of school.

And damn if that wasn’t pretty fucking heroic. 


End file.
